You Had Time
by Brexxlet
Summary: Hermione's had too many nights filled with wondering about Fleur. She needs more time, or just more incentive, to do something she can't find the courage to do. Hermione doesn't feel strong, but desire for Fleur is stronger. Maybe. Maybe not.


Uhm, hi. This is just something I wrote in about an hour. Thanks go to Yoshiyuki Ly for the ideas, because she kept pegging me to write something. So, here you go. This is set in book seven before a certain event, and based off of the song "You Had Time" by Ani DiFranco and inspired by the movie "Lost and Delirious" (at least the first part, anyway)...and Yoshiyuki Ly. This is my first fanfiction with Fleur/Hermione, so don't murder me D:

Nope, I don't own Harry Potter. So don't sue me. I am poor and I don't have a job.

* * *

And there sat Hermione outside in the garden of the Burrow the night before the wedding. Not her wedding. Not anyone's wedding who may have mattered.

It was only the wedding that would cut off all ties to a single Fleur Delacour.

Her back was on the house while she had her knees bent. It was a warm night, but still so cold because of what lay beyond the sunrise the next morning. Sometimes she wished she could gather the courage to do what she wanted to do as easily as the sun rises ever morning. But it seemed like as soon as she did muster the power, the second she saw Fleur, everything just ran away past the horizon like a sunset, never to return until Fleur was either gone or got tired of her antics. Well, Fleur never outright said she was irked. She never looked like she was irked.

Fleur just always _looked. _She was, she is; she was and is everything that Hermione grew to be so fond of because of how fascinating the woman is. What she is, is obviously beautiful. There was no question about that.

Hermione's eyebrows were raised in anxiety, her lips were pursed, and her eyes were unblinkingly locked onto the crescent moon just overhead. There was a question nagging at the back of her head whether she should just tell Fleur how she feels. But what would be the bloody point? Fleur was getting married tomorrow, and obviously wasn't interested in anyone else. How could she go up to Fleur to begin with? She wouldn't have anything to say, as usual. Hermione had even given up on the incessant scowling; there was no point. There was no point in doing anything if not trying to mumble over and over again that she needs to get over herself.

It's just a little hard to do that whenever the thought crossed her mind as to how different she would feel if she could have Fleur to herself. She didn't like the woman for a long time, but after seeing that she had changed considerably since her engagement to Bill, she grew fond of her. A little too fond, in fact.

A pang hit her square in the chest and sizzled up to her eyes when she began to wonder…what it would be like. To have happiness with a woman. To even finally have a reason to stop _wondering _and just _be _happy with someone. Fleur could give that to her. Fleur was a compassionate woman. Fleur was this and that and everything in between. Hermione could only wonder what it would be like to be on the receiving end of all of her wonders. Wonder, wonder, wonder….

What the hell else did she know about Fleur other than her image? Nothing. But Hermione was interested _because _she wanted to know more. She had time to find out more. She had the power to just storm in Bill and Fleur's room and demand that they stop the wedding because Hermione is _obviously _more interested in Fleur than Bill is.

Wasn't it so easy to be a guy like Bill? To be handsome and nice and a Fleur magnet? Wasn't it just so easy to not have to worry about an image to keep around friends? A second family? Hermione seemed to be more concerned about what everyone else thought about her in case she did something bold. There was just a horrible imbalance. Even if Hermione managed to woo Fleur, Bill would be upset. If she didn't, Hermione would be upset that everyone knew about her feelings for Fleur. Or even if only Fleur knew, and didn't reciprocate them. The latter seemed to be the worst, to be honest…

A coat of water glazed her eyes while she wondered how miserable Fleur makes her. Hermione normally never cared about these things. Burying herself in summer studies could only do so much before she lost focus after a few hours. Her determination to not let her attention wander seems to always make her even more flustered. And even now, what was she doing? But there was nowhere else to go. She didn't want to be at the Burrow. She wanted to just…leave.

But how could she go home with nothing to say? Her parents would be befuddled that she was home so early. They would know that something was wrong. She knew that they would look at her that way, and ask what she did out here. Why did she decide to come back?

Because she wasted her time. She needed time, she had time _now, _but it just kept tick tock'ing away. Everything is timing, and Hermione would only have the option of going home with an empty head and a broken heart, of course wailing to them about Fleur.

Just like now…wailing and sobbing because she wanted to taste something that was far beyond her grasp.

Her eyes were sore from doing this every night, and her voice was, too. Her voice was sore from running around in her mind, trying to convince herself that she needed to move on. Her chest was sore from the pressure of holding her breath while she cried, wondering how long Fleur could hold her breath over her lips. What was a kiss like? Hermione just wanted to…know.

An insane curiosity at the mere prospect of getting to kiss Fleur, to have Fleur, to be with her, to wake up with her every morning, to sleep with her, to do everything with her – it plagued Hermione. She had so much time to wonder and wonder about it that she couldn't act on finding out if she even had a chance with Fleur. She hesitated, perhaps, because she didn't want a definite 'no' that was bound to fly from Fleur's lips. Her permission to at least fantasize about the woman would be shattered, even more so than her mind, body, being; everything.

Time was running out. She needed to make up her mind. Now. Never. Tonight. Tomorrow. Next year.

* * *

She spoke to no one before the wedding. It was complete torture, putting on her bridesmaid's dress. But it was even more torturous to stand next to Ginny with Bill and his groomsmen not too far away.

Fleur was supposed to be walking down the aisle now. Hermione was too busy trying to make up her mind to figure out if she should stop the wedding before or after Fleur comes out. Or never. The imbalance and low probabilities were stifling her more than her dress. She should have just gone home. She was making a fool of herself in her mind by just standing there.

Her voice kept screaming in her head to just stop the procession now. Stop it, stop it, stop it to stop the painful wondering and the crying and the lack of focus and the instinctive fear about what people think. Fleur is more important than them. A chance to be with her, a _chance _to just…_be _with her…that was more important than what people thought of her. If it didn't work out, at least Fleur would know. She would think about it, perhaps wonder about Hermione. Wondering, and wondering and wondering herself up a possible infatuation with her. That would be…splendid. Perfect.

Her legs bustled down the aisle, but she hardly felt her mind go along with it. Her mind was running on its own again, even with her fears crying out that people were staring at her and it was making her uncomfortable. Half of herself was still standing with Ginny, and the other half was going to see what the hell was taking Fleur so long.

Hermione was going to stop her. She had to. Fleur was going to be hers, they'd run away to who knows where, and they would be perfectly…

Perfectly…happy…with Fleur standing with her father just feet away from Hermione.

Hermione stopped in her tracks just barely halfway down the aisle; Fleur wasn't moving. Her father wasn't trying to move, either. Everyone was silent; eyes were on the both of them. Funny how Hermione's courage decided to leave her now.

She tried to read Fleur's features. The woman just looked very confused that Hermione was standing in the middle of her path with absolutely no intention at moving. Fleur had to know that Hermione didn't want to move; the girl's hands were balled up and her lips were quivering.

Someone was saying something, but Hermione didn't comprehend. Fleur's lips weren't moving, but they were still so full. Her legs weren't moving, nor were they visible, but Hermione wanted to see them if she could just rip that beautiful dress off of her figure. The silence in the room was palpable, minus a few mumbles, obviously voicing their confusion about why Fleur and Hermione were staring at each other, both refusing to move blink or breathe. And so, Hermione figured, it was now or never. She had time _now _to do something. Because Fleur was…worth it.

She bit her lip and tried to keep tears of embarrassment from pouring down her steaming face while she strode over to Fleur, never once breaking eye contact with her. The walk was excruciating, but this was the time. She needed to take a chance. If it didn't work, then people would just forget about it the next morning and move on with their lives. Hermione probably wouldn't, but she was willing to take the chance to have the opportunity to spend the rest of her life with this woman, this beautiful, radiant, lustrous, desirable, desirable, _desirable _woman that she was stomping closer and closer and closer to… Just a little further, a little further now.

Her chest was heavy with fear and her stomach was full of nerves, but it was fine. Everything kept multiplying the closer she became to Fleur, whose face grew softer and softer still while understanding spread across her mildly confused visage. Hermione loved any face Fleur gave her, regardless of the situation. Even now, because she felt that empowered, a look of rejection would still be a blessing to receive. She had it bad, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except for right now.

Right now just so happened to be the end of her journey. She stopped just centimeters from the woman before her, their eyes level, but their expressions were not. Hermione felt a flicker of fear in the tiny detail that people were still staring at them, so she moved her mouth to Fleur's ear to whisper to her instead; no one would be able to hear her, so no one would know.

She willed herself to woo Fleur with this whisper, with her husky tone, with her words. She willed herself to have her happiness; who cares about Bill or what Ron would think or what _anyone _would think if not Fleur?

Hermione didn't, that's for sure.

"You're beautiful, you know. So beautiful…beautiful… You're such a wonderful person… I've been wondering about your wonders… and what it would be like to kiss you here, or there, or just everywhere. Please, don't move… this feels so good, just to be close to you like this. I should have told you ages ago that I love you, and I want to love _you, _too. Love you for who you are, and…I just want to _love _you. Wondering can only do so much for me…for us… So please Fleur…don't do this…"

And Hermione pulled away, afraid to look Fleur in her wide eyes, or even her face, and instead walked right past her after of course brushing her hand against Fleur's. Her shoulder, her hip, her leg; her entire side merely brushed against Fleur with only an ounce of want that Hermione had for her, but still conveyed so much more. And out the door she went, feeling more and more stupid and foolish and idiotic by the second. Her legs started to move faster, her heart ran faster, but her mind was running the fastest with so many questions. What were people saying? What was Fleur thinking? She probably just shrugged it off and kept walking…

This was probably just a taste of empowerment. Something Hermione would just tell to a stranger. And so they would ask, did Fleur love her or what? But Hermione wouldn't know what to tell them. It was horrible timing. Everything was said. Hermione would say that Fleur may have loved that she did that. But even then, the only one who really loved her was Fleur. Fleur loved her for what she _did. _And the person would just tell Hermione that she did a good job; she kicked butt. At least she tried.

And Hermione found her fingers sore from balling her fists so tightly. Her voice was sore again from willing her lungs to sob to the air while she sped through the fields, hating herself. She could never face anyone ever again. How could she go back? She knew they were going to look at her that way. They'd ask what she did out here, and what was on her mind when she decided to just take her time and try to seduce a soon-to-be-married woman who had better things to do than _Hermione._

"'Ermione, wait!"

And was that a…smile that spread across Hermione's face? It was. It was, but she kept running. Fleur's voice lilted through the air and turned everything right side up again. She kept running because she felt strong, because Fleur was actually running after her, and because she wanted to see how long Fleur would chase her.

She wanted to see if Fleur loved her for what she could _do. _And she must have, because Fleur kept chasing after Hermione for hours in between speed walks, near crawling, and distanced resting from the both of them to catch their breath. Hermione was still smiling and almost laughing in disbelief when she finally collapsed to the ground that afternoon, and Fleur nearly ran her over to get to her and fall in her lap.

Hermione was on her back, laughing and smiling even with tears of incredulity flowing down her face just like Fleur's chaste kisses in between breathy 'thank you's' from the quarter Veela. Hermione's disbelief steadied itself, but her heart somehow couldn't. It was beating wildly from the running, and now that she finally knew what it felt like to kiss Fleur's lips, she finally knew what it was like to take the time to stop wondering and finally experience.

Explanations for everything could come later. Hermione was entirely too glad that she took a chance and could finally call Fleur her own. The nights of endless crying were over. She finally, finally found someone who appreciated her for what she could do, who she was, and soon, everything else and under and in between.

And now this feeling was not just a story to tell a stranger; it was the story of her life, the story that made her life. Now Fleur had plenty of time to help her add more and more pages to the…wonderment.

* * *

So what do you think? Too long, too short, just enough? Good, bad, or just okay? I don't think I will continue this. Maybe, maybe not. But I had fun writing it, and I really hope you enjoyed reading it. I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Reviews are much appreciated. Thank you for reading.


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